Equals
by QueenOfTheBrassQuill
Summary: Sansa is not the empty headed maiden that the court of King's Landing assumes. The tables have turned and Sansa looks to a future with Sandor. With a willpower and love to match, she proves to Sandor she is not stuck in a simple fairytale. Not your traditional SanSan fic. Sansa/Sandor, AU.
1. Chapter 1

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything that the wonderful G.R.R. Martin has created.

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><p><strong>IN THE CORRIDORS OF THE RED KEEP<strong>

She walked quickly down the corridor, her heels echoing off of the stone floor. It was a cool, calm night with the moon shining through the window embrasures, the wind curling around her silk gown and long auburn hair. She had to get back to her chamber in an attempt to hide the emotions threatening to show on her lovely, pale face. Another day in the throne room guaranteed humiliation and perhaps a new set of bruises to replace the ones starting to fade. The pointing, laughing and condescending stares followed her everywhere. Sansa remembered when she first came to King's Landing and how she cried and tossed and turned every night after her lord father was killed. She wasn't safe and she probably never will be again. Faced with that notion, she refused to wilt like a flower. Unlike Arya, Sansa didn't have the stealth and physical strength of a warrior, but she had the brains and backbone. Her willpower grew stronger faced with her need to survive. A princess of the North should always be strong. In the relatively short time that Sansa had been brought to the Lannisters, she had become almost an expert at hiding her emotions. It wouldn't do her any good to show her weaknesses, especially in front of Joffrey.

_It's to be expected, _she thought. _I'm the king's play-thing. His betrothed. Nothing more than an object for his perverted entertainment. _She picked up her skirts and walked faster.

Just the thought of the twisted boy-king gave her intense thoughts of revenge in her head. If only she had pushed him off that bridge when she had the chance, damned if she cared what happened to her. _I just want to be with my family once more. But this will never be._ She pushed the thought from her head and focused on retaining her solid composure. The only sound in the long corridors were that of her cautious steps and quick puffs of breath emanating from the worried young woman.

_I hate them all. Joffrey – Cersei – Ser Meryn Trant – the Imp….._It was like a mantra, the names racing in her head over and over again. She knew it was no use to dwell on the evil creatures that lived in King's Landing. The fact that they were the stuff of her nightmares and always so close left her in a perpetual state of fear. At least, they used to. No longer did these monsters infect her being like a virus – making her blood run cold, her body shake and wake up in a damp, cold sweat. She had been so stupid, so naïve when she first came to King's Landing with no wish other than to marry her sweet prince. The only person that had taken some sort of odd pity to her was the Hound. In truth, he didn't frighten her. Oh yes, when she first met him at Winterfell she was weary of his hulking presence and the scars on his face. But Sansa had learned how to detect the true characteristics of a person after being subjected to lies day after day. Sandor Clegane had never hurt her. She often thought of this after a routine beating from the rest of the Kingsguard. Why? He seemed intent on verbally berating her every chance he got, but it only cut skin deep. She knew he was somehow protecting her and as grateful as she was, she couldn't let him see it. Sansa had to keep a constant façade of naivety and, well, stupidity about her. If anyone figured this young, beautiful woman had a great mind and knew how to use it, she would be doomed. So, she continued playing the aloof maiden who had nothing in her head but thoughts of true knights and fairytales.

However, when it came to the Hound, she felt this hunger to let him know she understood, that she wasn't as clueless as he thought. She wanted a friend and he seemed to be the only person willing. _I trust him_. _I see that he hurts too, but from what? His scars? Or from something much deeper than the flesh?_ Sansa always wondered what really bother the Hound and couldn't shake the feeling that she cared for him. He was young, not much older than she but looked as if he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. Of course, he stood strong around his charge, King Joffrey, the Lannisters and anyone at court. But if he was escorting her to her chamber, his broad shoulders would relax but a weariness would grow on his face. His gaze softened when he looked at Sansa and she at least always returned the favor, looking into his rather beautiful gray eyes. But she couldn't give away much more. As of late, there was always touching: her soft, pale hand would trail over his arm, her long fingers resting on top of his. A gentle tug at a lock of her hair, sometimes she would even rest her weary head on his powerful shoulder. It wasn't awkward, it was welcomed by both parties. But it would end too soon when Sandor suddenly change his softened demeanor. _It seems that he thinks I'm still just a stupid little bird. But I don't want him to! I want – no – I need someone to open up to, however unsafe it is in this world._

She turned a corner, her chamber almost in site. Oh, how she longed for the temporary sanctuary of her room! A safe haven from this minefield of a castle. No sooner did she turn the corner down the winding steps than she ran headlong into the object of her thoughts.

She gasped when two strong hands suddenly gripped her upper arms. Her startling blue eyes found his and for a split second, she saw the real Sandor. Of course, it never lasted long before he too replaced it with a façade.

"And what is the king's betrothed doing out of her cage? A little bird like you will be snatched up sooner or later." His gruff, deep voice echoed off of the stone walls, practically spitting the words. He hated that she was Joffrey's. She was too precious and rare a woman for that incestuous bastard.

Sansa's eyes narrowed. "I'm going back to my chambers and you would do well to remember who you are talking to." She turned on her heel to bypass him but he caught her arm once more and forced her to look at him.

He leered over at her and gnashed his teeth together. "Ay, I do remember who I'm talking to. A stupid girl whose head is as empty as a flowerpot but yet still seems to be filled with fucking useless notions of knights and fair maidens." With that declaration he spit onto the floor, narrowly missing her pale blue gown. She merely glanced down at the spittle and looked back to him with a bored expression.

"Yes, you're right. I am a stupid girl and wedding our dear King is more than what I could've ever dreamed of. Unhand me, _ser_, and let me be on my way. I wouldn't want the king's dog to be caught handling the little bird in such a way." She wrenched her arm free but didn't step back. Glancing down in front of her, his slightly heaving chest was a mere 6 inches from her face. He had bathed recently and smelled rather good, she always noticed these things about him. Sansa inhaled softly and took in the masculinity of the Hound before her.

She looked into his eyes once more and saw him working on a retort. "Of course, _my lady._ We wouldn't want anyone to see this filthy dog anywhere near you, too precious and highborn to be around the likes of me!" This banter was not uncommon between the two, but something grated on her nerves. She knew that they were alone and she was tired, mentally and physically, of hiding her true emotions. Sansa reacted on instinct and as soon as Sandor was turning away she grabbed the edge of his cloak and pulled _hard. _True, she didn't have powerful strength but the uncharacteristic change in her sent him almost sprawling backwards. Like a dog on a chain, she all but dragged the shocked Sandor to her chambers before opening the door and thrusting him inside before shutting the door with a bang.

Sansa was aflame. She whirled around to face the dumbfounded Hound and strode up to him, the façade completely melted from her face.

"Why the FUCK do you always do this to me? Do you derive pleasure from making me miserable? Yes, do you like that? Are you simply a goddamned imitation of those sickening monsters of the Kingsguard?" Her auburn hair flitted around her face as she paced in front of him, her hands making wild gestures. She turned on him and grabbed his light armor on his chest, pulling him closer. "Or are you Sandor? Someone that I've come to appreciate because you aren't like the rest of them? Do you know how precious that is to me? Tell me, tell me!"

_What in the absolute fuck is happening?_, thought Sandor. He stared in amazement at the fiery woman before him. He had never seen his little bird act in such a manner. Yes, she always came forward as meek and mild, spouting stupid ideas of beauty and love but while everyone thought it was endearing, he knew it was a material cover up. He knew because he frequently employed one too. But to have her grasping onto him like her life depended on it, demanding that he show herself to him was one of the most erotic situations he'd ever been in. The simpering maiden could only hold his attention for so long and he knew, _he just knew, _that there was more to his little bird. But he wasn't going to play without a little fight either. She can't win that easily, however much he was absolutely enamored by her.

Sandor pried the strong beautiful hands from his armor and took a step back. _By gods, she is beautiful._ Her auburn hair was a mess and her breasts were heaving from the emotional exertion. Her complexion was flushed and she was staring at him with such an intense gaze that he had to almost look away. Almost. He fixed his deep gray eyes on her and smiled devilishly. Sansa faltered slightly at the unexpected reaction. She expected fire but instead was given a trick of smoke.

He took a step toward her and then another, slowly. His large hand came out to grasp a tendril of silky hair and held it up for him to examine. He could tell she was growing uncomfortable and had lost some of her steam. Sandor relished the moment watching her squirm, it made his blood boil.

He leaned down to her tall frame and brushed back the hair behind her steadfast shoulders. His face was so close to her delicate ear that she could feel his trimmed bear scratch her cheek. Sansa felt something hot in her stomach. Never had she come so close in contact with a man and it sent a rush of excitement and adrenaline through her body, especially because it was Sandor.

His breath was hot against her neck as he whispered into her ear and she shivered from pleasure. "Ay, my little bird. I am Sandor, do you think you know me? Fuck the Kingsguard, but I am no true knight." He stroked a hand softly that was limp by her side. "Know that and you'll be better off for it." Sandor leaned back and stood tall, watching his little bird for expression.

"Is that a threat, Sandor? It's not a very good one. I know better than anyone that there are no true knights, I figured that out a long time ago." She turned and walked toward her open window, a gentle night breeze filtering through. Resting her hands on the frame, she continued. "I...I don't know anymore songs, Sandor. They're gone. I feel as if there is nothing beautiful and true left in this horrible world. _Except you._" She breathed those last two words and were so faint they could barely be heard, but Sandor was hanging on to her every word. He feared she was going to start crying but instead he saw her draw herself up to full height, head proud and shoulders square.

He felt so complete with her near. He knew he could trust her and vice versa. It was the most amazing feeling after all that he had gone through. Yes, she was beautiful but most of all he respected her willpower under the everyday crushing circumstances. How difficult it must be to live under such scrutiny when he was so used to being a dog kicked to the side and generally not regarded. But here was this stunning woman who comes to him of her own free will, stealing glances and soft touches whenever she can. She wasn't using him, she was being comforted by him and he knew the difference. He was in awe of her but although his appearance wasn't so highly appreciated as hers, there was an equality in their relationship. A balance that both of them needed.

Sandor realized his breath was ragged from emotion and really from the simplicity of it all. They needed each other. He walked slowly towards his little bird and turned her lovely face towards his. Silent tears had pearled at her eyes and slowly drifted down, making trails on her soft skin. With a rough thumb, he gently wiped them away. With that sweet gesture, Sansa unfolded. More tears came, tears that she had been so adept at holding back but could not pretend in front of this man she cared about so much. He pulled her into a snug embrace and her arms found their way around his waist. She could feel soft kisses on the top of her head, his strong hands massaging her back trying to calm her. Never had Sansa felt so loved than being in the arms of Sandor. Her spirit soared and she buried her head into his broad chest.

Sandor looked down at Sansa and felt a rush of emotion. _What the fuck is wrong with me? About to cry like a greenboy and for what?_ He looked down at the woman in his arms. _For her._ He was neglected for most of his life, confused and misunderstood. To have someone have him completely figured out left him shaken. He didn't care if she knew he wasn't really a monster, just a mistreated creature with no value in anyone's eyes except to take a sword. Sandor knew that she would always be able to keep the secret, she was that strong. He forgot about everyone else and relaxed into Sansa's embrace.

After what seemed like an eternity, Sansa unraveled herself from his form, instantly cold from the lost contact. Looking into his soft expression, she gave a small smile while gently wiping at her tear stained cheeks. Walking over toward her bed, she grabbed a warm shawl and wrapped it around her shivering shoulders, settling down to sit on the mattress. With the smallest of gestures, Sandor closed the window lest she catch more of a chill. He bent down on one knee in front of Sansa and rest his hands on either side of her.

They stayed still for a short while, content in gazing at each other and drinking their fill. Sansa leaned forward and placed her lips upon his. He responded as her equal in a most gentle reaction. The shawl slipped from her shoulders onto the bed as she placed her hands on both sides of his face, urging him closer. He obliged only for a moment. Breaking the kiss, he swept her up into his powerful arms and settled her form onto his lap. She wasn't dainty, but tall, supple and with a beautiful slightly plump form. All around King's Landing there were petite women trying to squeeze into the tightest of corsets but Sansa was exotic. At least a head taller than most ladies of the court and rare coloring of blue eyes and auburn hair. it drove Sandor and the rest of the men at court wild.

Sandor smoothed the hair from her face and with a little more force, kissed her with passion. She clung to him like she did before when he first came into her chamber, as if her life depended on it. Nothing could have been better at that moment than this. They were perfectly content with being in each other's embrace bestowing their affection.

This wasn't some instant change that had come over them. For months they had been circling each other, becoming more bold in their actions but cautious enough that no one at court would have caught any hints. On this cool, calm night, it finally came to a head. Sansa and Sandor knew they needed each other. It was right and meant to be. It did not matter that she was betrothed to King Joffrey or that he was much lower born than she. All that mattered to them was that they had each other, knowing that they could comfort and care whenever needed. You might say it came to love, for they had known nothing else of the sort. Their bond was created by the old gods and the new and nothing, not the king, not the Lannisters nor the other lords of the realm or even the mighty Stranger could ever break them apart.

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><p>I love the SanSan pairing and I hope you liked how I shipped them! Please leave a review and tell me if you like this sort of thing. I really appreciate it! :)<p>

~QueenOfTheBrassQuill


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything that the wonderful G.R.R. Martin has created.

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><p>King Joffrey lounged on the Iron Throne, listening to an endless parade of petitions. The young monarch was clearly bored. He groaned and uttered annoyances at every possible moment to let everyone within earshot know how irritated he was. After listening to a particularly droll tale of farmland ownership a laborer was complaining about, he snapped his fingers to send him away without a resolution.<p>

He swiveled his blonde head to the Hound to ground out his frustrations. His dog was always at his side to listen. "My god, these peasants disgust me. Can't they figure out their own pathetic problems? Honestly, wasting my time talking about a puny garden to their king? Ridiculous!" Joffrey hissed out the words as he walked with Cersei and his Kingsguard back to his chambers for a light supper.

Cersei lightly cleared her throat. "Your Grace, these are the people of your realm. I think it wise to show them how...humble and courteous you are. As a matter of fact, you..." but Cersei was cut off when Joffrey sharply turned around to look at his mother. She calmly waited with a bland expression on her face, knowing her son would rebuke her. He did so every chance he got.

He strode to her in two steps and was practically nose-to-nose with her. "Humble? Courteous? I'm not some simpering fool who takes orders from his idiot mother. I am the king!" Yes, everyone knew he was king and he frequently made that point quite clear. Cersei had to try not to roll her eyes at her son's temper tantrum. _My god, he gets worse everyday. The boy is eight and ten and still cries when he does not have his way. If only he were truly like me: strong and clever. He must get this moody side from his father... _"Don't you ever talk to me like that again. If you do, you will rue the day you did not beg forgiveness on your knees." With a swirl of his crimson cape, he stormed down the halls with his Kingsguard in tow leaving Cersei behind.

"That went well..." Cersei muttered to herself as she trudged back to her own quarters for the afternoon.

She waved her handmaidens away and instead served herself a generous glass of wine. The cup was cool and she held it to her forehead, eyes closing when she felt the soothing metal against her skin. Cersei had taken to eating, dressing and bathing alone. She didn't trust anybody and felt that no one was up to par with her and she knew what was best. _Of course, father doesn't think that way. He's just like all the rest – believing that women are good for bedsport or breeding and securing lands through marriage, nothing more._ But she tried to never let that bother her. Though truth be told, she was constantly looking for acceptance from her father, Lord Tywin. He never gave it to her. Each time she was denied being acknowledged as a great mind and powerful figure, her soul grew more and more bitter.

Throwing back the rest of her wine as if it were nothing more than milk, she walked to the gilded mirror on her chest of drawers. Lines were etched into her once beautiful, fresh face, her blond hair hung slack and her body appeared gaunt beneath the richly embroidered gown. Ruling a kingdom takes a toll on the body and Cersei was loath to admit it. She was no older than 36 years of age but she felt as stiff and broken as an old crone. She thought of her children, but most of all Joffrey. Joffrey. He was her firstborn and has always held a special place in her heart. But with no one that seemed to understand her left her with a deep depression. The fiery nature of her character had been snuffed. It created hollowness within her that not even her love, Jaime, could fill. The days were wearisome and the nights were not welcome to her. Try as she might to sleep, her head was racing with the ever repeating thoughts of Joffrey – her father – the realm – Jaime – the Imp – Joffrey – her father – the realm – Jaime – the Imp….it never stopped. She deemed she would lose her wits from the torment of an unquenched thirst and hunger. For what? She did not know and it drove her mad.

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><p>Sandor dutifully followed the smug little shit on the way back to his chambers. Maintaining his aloof composure, he bit back a retort when Joffrey opened his cunt mouth to start talking about his betrothed in a most degrading manner, naturally.<p>

"Can you believe the Lady Sansa today? Always wandering around in that godswood praying for her pathetic family. What is there to mope about? They were pretenders, traitors to the true king and it's a good thing they're dead, she should be thankful. Even better that I'm marrying the stupid girl. I can't wait to get her with pup and have the Stark squashed out of her. She will be right where I can always see her", Joffrey said as he lazily pelted an innocent serving maid with grapes. "Still, she will be good for one thing: bedsport. And with her tits ripening and pink cunt just waiting for me, it's enough to drive me mad. Oh, to get my hands on that body of hers!" With a flourish he threw the bowl of fruit against a wall, clapping his hands with glee at the sight of the juices staining a tapestry.

The other members of the Kingsguard shared a good laugh with the king, heartily agreeing with him and adding their own lewd comments about Sansa. It's true she is desired by many, but she will belong to none of them, Sandor would make sure of it. His grip tightened on the hilt of his sword and his jaw squeezed shut whenever Joffrey talked about his little bird, but he always managed a laugh or grunt as a response. He had to keep his cover.

Joffrey grew bored and settled down to eat and scare the wits out of the other serving maids while Sandor was left to his thinking, He perched himself just outside the door and thought about Sansa and the past few weeks they had shared. Just the thought of her caught him in a wave of euphoria, his eyes closed briefly at her image and he wanted nothing more than to be with her right now. Of course, she was playing her part dutifully and was probably off somewhere in the keep embroidering or doing such lady-like activities.

Sandor went to see her every chance he got. It was not strange for him to be around her chambers. As the king's sworn shield, it was also expected of him to protect Joffrey's betrothed. Since Sansa's chambers were isolated due to Joffrey wanting her to suffer for her family's traitorous acts, it was simple to meet her. He was due to see her tonight when he was off duty. The king was having a small get together in his quarters that no doubt involved whores and other lewd lords of the keep. Thank the gods, he would be kept busy.

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><p>The life of a noble lady was rather dull. Once she had delighted in sewing, playing her lute and singing and reading tales of faraway lands and brave, handsome knights. That was when she was a child. Now that Sansa was almost nine and ten, she thought it a droll process indeed. During her childhood at Winterfell, she despised going on trips to the northern lands surrounding their castle. It was often cold, muddy and she complained of her unkempt hair and dress. Arya loved being allowed to romp outside and play with the Stark boys. It just wasn't lady like! Her father had often taken his children to teach them survival skills, which Lady Catelyn often thought foolilsh. It would be as simple as making a fire, cooking and setting traps for small animals for food, where to find fresh water and how to make camp. At the time, Sansa didn't pay much attention, preferring the safety and comfort of the heated castle walls and her maid brushing her hair. <em>How petty I was and utterly foolish. If I had half the sense of Arya, I would have taken my father and brothers up on their offers of demonstration. <em>She angrily stabbed her needle through the cushion she was embroidering, resulting in a drop of blood welling on her fingertip. Not caring that she was in the midst of other ladies of the court, she sucked on her finger to ease the pain.

While she was working she had heard the ladies gossiping about a Margaery Tyrell of Highgarden coming to King's Landing. True, Sansa knew of her brother Ser Loras, Knight of the Flowers, but something put her on edge about the way they were talking about this lady. Margaery Tyrell had been married to Robert Baratheon's younger brother, Renly, and nothing short of scandal followed them around. The rumors were that Renly had no preference for Margaery but relished the company of the other sex. Sansa shook her head. _There will always be rumors, no matter who you are or where you go. _

After Renly Baratheon had mysteriously died, there was nowhere for poor Margaery to go in her family's mind except up the royal ladder. The ladies' fervent whispers were loud enough for Sansa to hear clear across the room.

One old woman leaned across to her companion, a rather fat and sallow looking woman with graying hair tightly bound on top of her head in the southern fashion, "I hear that the Tyrell girl is coming to the Red Keep to propose something rather forward to our king. She has no husband left after that traitor Renly was killed, so what is she to do but take the only Baratheon wholly available?" Her cold, blue eyes flicked to Sansa and back. "Well, _almost_ wholly available", she sniffed.

Her fat friend covered her small, puckered mouth with a brightly covered kerchief to hide a condescending laugh. "I'm sure the king would be able to make do without his ice queen. Why not something more fragrant than northern frost, a Tyrell rose to please his senses?" The two horrible ladies shared a laugh and returned to idle chatter and embroidery.

Sansa froze. She had heard every word. _Margaery Tyrell is coming to literally propose to Joffrey? She is coming to take my place as the future queen? _For most, this would be most upsetting. Her stomach churned and the needle she was holding dropped to the floor, her embroidery forgotten. _Is this my chance? My chance to be free of that monster? _Sansa could hardly believe it. It seemed too good to be true. Surely breaking a betrothal to a king has some sort of consequence. Although Sansa felt a little bit of relief upon hearing this rumor, she couldn't help but to think of what Joffrey will do to her once she is no longer under the protection of a betrothal. She picked up her needle and gave a small snort. _Protection? Blood likely. If getting beaten and humiliated on a daily basis is considered protection, I shudder to think of what will happen to me once that is lost to Margaery Tyrell…_if _the rumors are true._

There was no sense in dwelling on a rumor overheard from two cackling, gossiping crones. Still, she thought that she should prepare herself in any case. If anyone were to wilt it would not be from a Stark wolf, only a Tyrell rose. She gave a dainty sigh. _But for now, this pillow won't embroider itself_, Sansa thought as she dutifully went back to her noble task, her back ramrod straight with determination.

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><p>The sun was setting and Sandor's shift had ended. <em>Thank the gods, I'm rid of that little bugger for now. <em>He sauntered off to the kitchens for a skin of Dornish sour. It would be another hour or so before he got to see Sansa. They had to time their meetings just so to not cause suspicion.

Scowling at one of the dirty scullery maids, he snatched two wine skins for himself and immediately pulled out the cork for a long swig. A drop had found its way into his neatly trimmed beard and he wiped it away hastily. Sandor picked up the pace on his way back to his rooms, glaring at anyone that dared to pass him by.

Reaching his chamber, he threw open the door and deposited the extra wine skin on the small table. Pulling the last draught from his first wine skin, he corked it and threw it alongside the other. It was a long day. _Any day with Joffrey is guaranteed to be long._ _Lucky me, I get to do it everyday. _He sighed and relaxed in his bad, little more than a pallet, and closed his eyes for a moment. _Sansa. My little bird._ He would never admit it, but he thought about the little bird constantly, thinking himself growing soft. Sandor growled. He couldn't help it, the woman was like a drug to him, or...he glanced at the wine skins and shrugged. _Or like a fine wine._ How could he resist her? True, everyone acknowledged her beauty but only Sandor knew what a mature and fiery woman she really was. The brute he was, it turned him on.

Sandor started to feel hot, and it wasn't just the wine. Every time he thought of Sansa it stirred him inside. He was a man and wasn't ashamed to admit that he pleasured himself to the thought of her. Reaching down to his breeches, he hurried to unlace them with his hands. His member was already standing proud and Sandor wasted no time. Keeping his eyes closed, he focused on Sansa, imagining her long auburn hair sweeping over his body, those piercing blue eyes locked on his and those plump lips enveloping him in ways that no highborn like she should know about. With a low moan, he pumped faster, relishing his fantasy. Grunting, he came after a while and lay there for what seemed like an eternity. In some ways he thought it pathetic to moon over the woman like this, alone and half drunk. _Better be like this every time before we meet than to go to her wanting to take her then and there. We're at high risk as is. She needs to stay a maid for her fucking betrothed. _That thought snapped him out of his reverie making him realize, yet again, how dangerous the situation they were in. He would do anything for her.

Sandor cleaned himself up, making himself presentable for his little bird. He brushed his wavy dark hair and quickly splashed water on his face, drying it with a rough towel. Sloughing on his coat, he checked himself and squared his shoulders, drawing to his full, impressive height. Opening the door, he stooped down to exit his rooms and made sure it was locked. The night was calm and there was a slight breeze whispering through the corridors. His boots echoed on the stone and he only had but one thing on his mind: _Sansa._

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><p>Ahhhhh! I know, I know, I'm such a turd. Next chapter will definitely have some juicy SanSan moments, so stay tuned. As always, PLEASE leave a review! It is always appreciated that busy readers like you leave comments, it helps the author immensely. THANKS!<p>

~QueenOfTheBrassQuill


	3. Chapter 3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own anything that the wonderful G.R.R. Martin has created.

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><p>Sansa had been in her room a little over an hour having told the other court ladies she would take supper by herself. No one really cared; they all thought her odd, this frosty northern maid, not wanting to be near the high table fawning over lords and the royal family. To the rest, all that mattered was to be favored and have riches and lands bestowed upon them. The lot of them sauntered to the Great Hall in droves, a constant mass of whispering and gossip.<p>

As she waited for Sandor, she mulled over what she had heard earlier that day while taking the time to brush her long and shining hair. _Is this really true? Will Joffrey truly take Margaery as his queen and cast me aside? What will become of me? _The same thoughts flitted through her mind over and over, thinking of possible scenarios and consequences from all angles. One thing for sure, she always came back to thoughts of Sandor. If she is free, the only man she would want to be with is Sandor. Sansa froze. Gently, she placed her ivory comb back on the vanity. Looking at her fair reflection in the mirror, she paused. _Is…is this love? Do I love Sandor? _She had never been in love, besides her mistaken silly notions as a girl, and couldn't be quite certain. Sansa was fairly sure that she would know if she was in love. A dainty sigh escaped from her lips. No, it's not love. But who knows if it could ever grow to become an unbreakable bond such as that? A warm flush quickly spread throughout her body and she strode to the window, opening it to let in a cool breeze. _Yes. Maybe one day it could come to love._ She shook her head. What would Sandor think if he knew her thoughts? _He would probably think that I'm some stupid girl with the same stupid fantasies from years ago. _Sansa straightened and gazed out to the stars. _No, he wouldn't think that of me, just as I wouldn't think him a knight in shining armor._

A knock at the door startled her out of her reverie. Quickly checking herself and brushing out any wrinkles from her deep purple gown, she walked to the door and opened it a sliver. Near the handle, a small white feather poked itself into the room followed by a large hand. Sansa giggled and opened the door for Sandor to come in. Ever since they starting seeing each other, they were wary of visitors. Coming to Sansa's room, Sandor would always insert a feather into the door opening to let his "little bird" know it was just him.

As soon as the door was shut, Sansa had him pinned to the wall. A look of surprise crossed Sandor's face immediately followed a mischievous glint. Her pale hands were slowly, tenderly roaming across the broad expanse of his chest, stopping at hints of hot skin. Every time he made a move to touch her, she ceased her own movements. "It's either me or you that gets to touch, take your pick". He obediently put his palms flat against the wall, being selfish and wanting her to do the dirty work of pleasuring him. It seemed like an eternity, her touching and teasing him like this. He ground his teeth, not wanting to move but at the same time desperately wanting to pick her up and throw her on the bed.

Sansa smirked as she saw him close his eyes and grit his teeth in intense concentration. He always took the reins when it came to pleasuring but she figured returning the favor. Her fingers poked inside the top of his light armor and underneath his shirt at the back of his neck. Slowly, she would swirl her fingers over his collarbone and lightly up his Adam's apple. Sandor swallowed as quietly as he could, mouth parting as he panted slightly. _He's being rather good. Patient. Who would've thought the great, fearsome Hound would be panting under my touch? _Suddenly, her fingers lost contact with this skin, making him cold. He started to open his eyes in confusion and was met with a hot, willing mouth against his. Sansa clung to him and his strong arms surrounded her tall frame completely crushing her to him. Fervent kisses were sprouting everywhere, on top of skin and clothing. Sandor flipped Sansa so that she was now pinned against the wall. It made her groan with desire at being pressed against by such a _man_. Sandor paused for the briefest of moments, slightly shocked that she wasn't frightened. He grinned, it turned him on even more.

Before things started to really heat up, Sansa stilled his hands on her body and broke free. Sandor growled, "What the hell, woman?! You can't just leave a man in this state!" gesturing to his tented trousers. She walked to the bed, glancing over her shoulder with a small grin as calm as if they had not just been all over each other the moment before. Sansa climbed on top of the mattress, fluffing the pillows as she went while Sandor stood there dumbfounded. Getting comfortable, she perched herself on the bed, leaning against the headboard. Looking him dead in the eye and locking his gaze, she slowly started to unlace the top of her gown. Sandor's mouth hung slack and it was all he could do to not ruin the moment. She continued unlacing her gown until the top halves of her heavy breasts were exposed. Sansa made a tantalizing show of moving her long hair behind her, relaxing onto the pillows and spreading the fabric of her gown over even further.

"Well? Aren't you going to keep me company?"

That's all she had to say to get the Hound moving faster than she ever thought possible. He was quickly by her side on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do. Sandor had never been in a situation like this that involved a willing maid. She was too precious to him and this was too good a moment to fuck up. He waited for her instructions like an eager puppy, slowly being driven mad with desire. Sansa slowly sat up on the bed, touching her breasts softly, tracing circles on the exposed flesh. His eyes quickly found the movement. Taking his large hand in hers, she placed it on her chest, a silent invitation to explore.

Sandor couldn't believe his luck. This amazing, beautiful woman wanted him, _HIM_, to touch her. Like hell he was going to stop!

Her large breasts fit comfortably in his palm, gently kneading them and heard Sansa mewling on the coverlet. Her eyelids fluttered shut, enjoying the sensual massage and gradually inching his masculine hands down her body. A sudden movement from Sandor made her open her eyes in alarm. Sandor was on his hands and knees above her, drinking in the sight of this delicious, porcelain maid. With him in prime position, she lifted up to give him soft kisses all over his face: on his strong jaw, his scars, his brow. Her hands were slowly tugging his shirt out of his trousers and with an impatient flourish, he unlaced his light armor and deposited all contents on the floor. Sansa's blue eyes grew wide as he sat back on his heels. She had never seen him without his shirt on before. It was truly breathtaking. Of course he was muscled, being a warrior and the sworn shield to the king, but to actual see it in the flesh gave her ripples of excitement throughout her body.

All of a sudden, Sandor was attacked. Sansa knocked him back onto the mattress with such force that he had no chance to object. Her mouth was on him everywhere in a frenzy, relishing in this new feeling of intimate contact. He gathered up her beautiful auburn hair in his hands so he could watch her pleasuring his body. As much as he enjoyed her attentions, it was almost too much for him to bear. _Fucking hell, she's going to be the death of me. I want to take her right here and now, but I fucking can't….I can't…_

"Stop." Sansa froze and looked up at Sandor who was laying spread eagle and panting. "Don't get me wrong, little bird. I want this. I want this more than anything, but if you don't stop, I honestly don't know what I'd do to you. _Gods_, woman. What the fuck have you done to me?" He gave a half smile and she looked at him guiltily, sitting back and rolling off of him. He hated the sudden loss of contact.

Sansa perched herself on the edge of the bed, her head resting in the palm of her hands. "I'm sorry, Sandor. I just don't know what's come over me!" She swiveled her head to look at him. "I care for you, so much. I've never experienced any of this before and….well…." She trailed off, twisted her purple gown in her nervous hands.

"Out with it, woman!" Sandor growled at her.

"I WANT YOU! By all the gods, I want you, Sandor Clegane! You drive me mad and I crave your touch day and night. Have you slipped me a lust philter? A charm? A spell? What have you done to _ME_, you brute?!" Her exclamation had turned into laughing banter as she launched herself at Sandor. Laughing, he caught her slim wrists and hugged her to him, giving her small kisses here and there.

"It seems we're even then. So what are we to do about it? I know of ways that won't take your maidenhead, but I'm not sure you're ready for that kind of…pleasure." He grinned, it was a challenge.

"Other ways, hmmm?" Her mood turned coy and she traced her fingers on his flesh once again. "Well, seeing as we both, without a doubt, need to satiate our appetites, I don't see what the harm is in exploring other ways to pleasure each other. What say you?"

But Sandor didn't need to say anything. He captured one of her hands in his and slowly guided it over his body. Sansa let out a small gasp and her gaze shot to his as her hand reached the front of his trousers.

"Let me teach you, little bird…"

* * *

><p>Ohhh boy, juicy SanSan moments! Sorry for the wait everyone, hope that this chapter was worth it! Please leave a review; something, anything, everything helps. You guys rock!<p>

~QueenOfTheBrassQuill


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